The Hardest Part of Living
by SoulxCyanide
Summary: He should have been dead. Looking for survivors won't be easy, as they could have either left the area or died in the blast that he himself was victim of.  But who were the survivors he knew had escaped? *Rating may go up. Possibly. Who knows?*
1. Chapter 1

_Why hello! This shall be my first attempt at a Romantically Apocalyptic Multi-chapter. We'll see where it takes us, won't we?_

_I wrote this today, it's probably the shortest thing I've ever written in my life._

_I'd like to dedicate this to my fellow Minion-mods on the forum. May the digital hugs and radioactive beverages be plentiful to you!_

_I really didn't know what to name this, so I pulled some lyrics off of a song I was listening to. I may or may not change it._

_Anyways, Enjoy!_

xXx

_I should have been dead._

_Why am I not?_

I wander around the wasteland, leaving my seclusion reluctantly.

_Where would I go?_

I wander through the outskirts of the City, not daring to venture into it just yet; Annie had most likely sent out another hunter-exterminator drone to search for me.

I eventually find a bunker after what seemed like hours of walking.

All it consists of is two and a half walls and a mass of debris, dust and splinters that litter the floor. It was better a better idea than staying both alone and unarmed in the open Dead Zone at night while I slept. I suppose the thick layer of ash covering the floor would provide more cushioning than simply sleeping on the destroyed, cold ground anyways.

I lie down and curl into a corner, farthest away from the open wall as possible as I slowly drift into unconsciousness.

xXx

Sleep had been rough. I had been used to sleeping in a cot with an itchy micro-fiber blanket for warmth. But they had been destroyed in Annie's execute protocol 1-1-3. In the night, I happened to learn that the Dead Zone chilled to extreme temperatures. Nuclear Winter was, apparently, the worst season.

_And of course, it's the time where Annie decided to show up._

I leave the bunker with a sore back and a foul mood.

By late morning, I'm in a rut. I don't know where I'm headed; I've no food, water, or weapons.

I fear I may be the only survivor around, but what about…

_What about the ones that managed to flee before the bombs?_

I search my mind, trying to remember the faces of the ones who'd prepared. A handful of Directorate workers, who had fled the scene with a week's food rations and no protection. I was confident that they were all dead, or at least mutated beyond repair. None of them had any inkling of knowledge outside of their Connected minds.

But…

But there were a few who I knew could have survived. _There was_… I search my mind. _There was the Pilot I'd put in charge of one of the Major nuke planes._ He might have potentially suffered some long-term memory loss from his disconnection with Annie, but he knew how to survive.

There was Subject Seven, who had more than likely survived the blasts.

_There was one more…_ His face swam in and out of view in my mind, rendering me incapable of remembering.

As I walk I try to grasp the lost image of his face in my mind. About ten minutes later I'm finally able to surface a memory of the forgotten face. An angry, almost disbelieving expression mars an otherwise tired expression as he watches one of Seven's many conducted Tests, taking notes to be handed to people higher up on the employment ladder than he could ever be. Thinking of that, another image of his face shows up, one with a happier (albeit tired) expression as he hands me a digital log, recounting his first day in his new relocation and what he had found as a…

_What was he?_

I walk, wondering, when it comes back to me. He was a Dead Zone tour guide who had _requested_ the transfer. He was the only person that couldn't connect to the world, the only one who never knew the perfection of what Annie once was.

The only one who didn't have to worry about destroyed memories once the headsets were seemingly eradicated.

_He's probably the sanest of us all if he's still a survivor. I guess being the 1% has its perks now._

xXx

_Please review! Tell me what you think, give me ideas!_

_xoSoul_


	2. II

_Stupid muse. If I ever meet you I'm going to punch you in your proverbial throat. It's your fault this took so long._

_A great big thanks to my reviewers: Schizo Zee Techie, LiquoriceLaw, Eight 0f Hearts, messynotebooks, anon, and Temarcia!_

_xXx_

_First thing's first: I need food, water, and shelter._

I rummage through the wreckage of a house. _Maybe, if I'm lucky, I'll find something good._

In the course of nine hours, I'd gone through 4 houses and uncovered over two four-litre containers of drinkable water. I'd found food that, within rations, could last me a couple days. I still hadn't found a weapon, though, which unnerved me. _What if I got attacked?_

With that sudden, alarming thought, something kicked in my brain and I started running from where I had been standing to the nearest abode I could find.

Which wasn't easy; I had literally wandered into the middle of nowhere.

The fact that I was alone and it was dark kept me going, feeding my adrenaline as fear nipped at my heels like a crazed dog with mange.

xXx

Not soon enough, I found a small, home-like structure that looked like it contained only three or four rooms.

I burst into it, realizing all too late that something could have been resting inside, something that could be twice my size and a hell of a lot more dangerous.

_Fuck,_ I think. _I need to be more careful._ I stop in my tracks and proceed haltingly- although nothing jumps out at me. I deem myself safe, for now, and commence raiding the house. I'm lucky; although I didn't find any water, I found a couple cans of soup, a few cans of beans, and a can of ravioli. One of the cans of beans is open slightly. I set it back down on the broken counter in the kitchen and continue on my search.

xXx

A tattered blanket. A pack of beef jerky. The canned goods. A colourful tote bag with the words 'YOUNG AND LOADED' printed on the sides. I put my findings in the bag, take a sip of water.

_I wish I had a damn can opener._

I take a couple bites of the dried meat. Its saltiness mixed with Cajun seasonings make my eyes water.

_I fucking hate Cajun._

Later, I rest in a fitful doze, blanket doing nothing to keep me warm in the plummeted winter temperatures.

xXx

I was into my third day of walking when I walked up an outcropping of debris and I saw it.

_Someone._

I walk faster, the bag hitting me in the back of the knees in my haste. I stumble a bit as I reach the top of the hill.

_No._

_Fucking __**no**__._

I bring my hands up in a questioning manner. "Wha-"

"Have a seat."

The voice brought back memories from before the fallout. Haughty with false pride, his Russian accent giving his words a commanding tone, yet contains the slightest hint of humour.

"How the hell are you-"

"Have a seat."

"How long have you been out here fo-"

"Have a seat." He indicates to the chair across from him, staring at me fixedly.

I sat.

"I have been reviewing your rezúmë," He says seriously, tenting his fingers together in a business-like manner. "Your presence in this organization is acceptable." I raise my eyebrows at him.

_Was he serious?_ I look around. It was oddly lucky that there was an office desk placed strategically where it would be of utmost convenience to him. There, hanging on the remains of a wall, rested a picture. 'Employee of the month' was scrawled in what looked like chalk around the picture's damaged frame.

A jolt went through my body as I saw the picture.

_It was him!_ The desk-jockey-turned-tour-guide. _How does Seven know about him…?_

I shake the thoughts from my head. _That doesn't matter now; we need to get out of here before ANNET sends a drone._

"Okay, yes, wonderful. Listen, we must hurry-"

My sentence was cut short by feet getting set down heavily on the desk. He reclines casually in his chair, arms behind his head. "Now. Time for zee interview."

"Listen, Seven," I say, rising from my seat. "I really don't have time for thi-"

"You are not leaving until we are finished." He brandishes the mug that I know too well, probably for emphasis.

"What do you mean I can't leave until the interview is over?"

He raises the mug a bit higher. Steam pours from the top. I don't want to know what's in there.

I sink back down onto my chair.

Over the course of the next two hours, we go through what he called an interview.

"No! I'm not filling out this 20 page application!" The mug was slightly raised.

"Use number 2 pencil? Where am I supposed to get a number 2 pencil?" He handed me one. "Give this back. My good friend Steve let me borrow his office today. That pencil is his most treasured possession."

"My references? What? You worked under me for years!" He stared fixedly at me. I grumbled and wrote down what I could remember.

"This is ridiculous!" It really was.

"Why would you want my email?" The internet has been down since you spilled tea on the servers!

"Why would you even need to know whether I can dance salsa?" He spread his arms. "All to be revealed if you prove yourself as a worthy minion!"

I look around hastily. "ANNET's drones could be here any moment!"

"No, I'm not giving you my phone number!" I don't even remember it!

_Short chapter is short ;A;_

_So I really don't have an idea on what to do next—HELP ME~_

_Every review will be loved and cherished by me!_

_Thanks for reading,_

_xoSoul_


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